


You've Never Danced Like This Before

by alienharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Harry likes Louis, It's small i swear, Louis does NOT, M/M, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienharry/pseuds/alienharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"You're the type of boy my mother warned me about." Louis took a drink of his warm beer and winced as it went down. "I can't, in good conscience, sleep with you."</em>
</p><p><em>"It's a good thing I don't have a conscience."</em><br/><br/>Or the one where Harry can't get Louis out of his head, and Louis can't get Harry out of his life. </p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Never Danced Like This Before

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Stolen Dance by Milky Chance
> 
> And the beginning portion is loosely based on How I Met Your Mother.

Sometimes Harry regrets meeting Liam Payne. He regrets the day Liam moved in next door and his mother made him say hi. He regrets the way that Liam was so nice and he’d formed an instant friendship with Harry. He regrets the years they grew up together. Sometimes he regrets a lot.

Today, especially, is a day he could live without Liam Payne. A normal best friend would drag his friends out to the club to gets drinks and find some fresh meat. A normal best friend wouldn’t force Harry to go on a blind date with some whiny guy that needed to be babysat all night.

Liam Payne was not normal.

Here’s what happened: Liam’s a shy guy, and when he finally got up the nerve to ask his long time crush out for drinks, he didn’t ask him out on his own. He told the boy that he and a friend were going out, prompting him to invite his own friend.

And now Harry was stuck waiting for Zayn and his whiny friend, just because Liam was too pathetic to ask the boy out properly.

“This is the last time I’m ever helping you,” Harry snapped at his friend. They were sitting in a booth, four beers placed around the table. A remix of a remix of an obscure indie song was pounding throughout the place, leaving the two boys to yell as communication.

“Maybe he’ll be single.”

“No shit he’s single.” He took another gulp of beer, hoping to be at least half way trashed when they guys show up. “He’s probably looking for a spouse, and I’ll have to listen to him complain while you and Zayn shag on the dance floor.”

“We’ll just be chatting, Haz.” A light pink blush dusts Liam face, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry, but just as he opens his mouth, a tan figure steps up to the table.

“Liam?”

They both look up, and Harry instantly knew it was Zayn. Because Liam wouldn’t be smiling so widely if it was anyone else. And why would Liam want anyone else? Zayn wasn’t anything less than stunning. Liam didn’t normally go for tattoos and leather jackets that smell like menthols, but then again, Zayn was the exception to the rule.

Zayn sat down in the seat across from Liam and began talking about whatever it was they did for a living. Harry could never get a solid answer out of Liam, and he assumed Zayn did the same thing.  

What Harry didn’t know was why the friend he was babysitting wasn’t at the table. Enduring a sob-story man is better than watching Liam blush and stutter every other word whilst talking about “global scales” and “epic proportions” and… did he just say _Groovy_?

“So where’s your friend?” Harry asked, ignoring the look Liam throws him for interrupting their conversation and being so demanding.  

Zayn looks up towards the front door, not answering, just looking, before he shrugs and goes back to talking Liam’s bald little head off.

“Alright,” he takes one last drink of his beer before clapping Liam on the shoulder. “Then I’m out-”

He was cut off as somebody bumped past him and slid into the both beside Zayn. “Sorry I’m late.”

There was a smart remark on the tip of his tongue – Harry swears there was – but it was all forgotten the moment he looked at Zayn’s friend. He had feather soft hair and bright blue eyes and a smile to match Zayn’s brooding stare. Even in the booth the boy looked tiny, fragile.

Maybe Liam Payne wasn’t such a mistake.

Zayn and Liam were off in their own world, so he took his seat back at the booth and smiled towards the pixie boy. “I’m Harry.”

“Louis.”

 _Louis._ French name.

“And what do you do, Louis?”

It was obvious enough to Liam that Harry was more than interested in the small boy, but Louis seemed a bit oblivious and went on a long tangent about ‘work’ and ‘friends’ that Harry really would’ve rather not listened to.

It wasn’t until Liam and Zayn slipped out of the booth to go dance that Louis finished talking and Harry tuned back into the conversation. “-So what do you do?”

With his best friend gone to try and seal the deal, Harry was left with two options: he could befriend Louis and talk up Liam so only good things would be relayed to Zayn, or he could try and seal the deal himself. And Harry being Harry did exactly what he would’ve done in any other circumstance.

He tried to seal the deal himself.

“I do a few odd jobs here and there,” he informed the blue-eyed boy, who was listening intently. “It’s just hard to find steady work with my condition.”

Harry doesn’t normally go for such a head on approach, but Louis looks like the type to fall for it. And he does. “Oh. Are you sick?”

“Not terminally. It’s just a handicap that makes everyday labor difficult.”

“Well what is it, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Harry definitely didn’t mind the boy asking. “It’s called Enormous Penis Syndrome.”

Louis didn’t react right away. There was a moment where the heavy bass thudded in the background, filling what would’ve been silence from Louis’ end. Liam and Zayn were in the background dancing and talking about whatever it was Liam always talked about, and Louis just stared at Harry with those big blue eyes looking more amused than he should.

“Wow,” Louis finally got out. He was toying with the handle of his beer mug and smiling a little bit. “Enormous Penis Syndrome? I’ve never heard of that.”

“That’s the problem with E.P.S: lack of awareness.” At first Harry couldn’t believe it was working on the boy. The trick had only worked once before and it was on his sister’s friend who was never that bright to begin with. She didn’t even realize Harry was lying until he was kicking her out. He didn’t think they play would actually work a second time, but Louis was putty in his hands. “That’s why I’m organizing a 10K fun-run.”

“That’s so charitable.” In between speaking, Louis was taking small drinks of the beer that’d gone warm by now. Harry didn’t understand how he could drink that shit, but then again, he wasn’t the brightest bulb.

“But of course, many of us will need wheel chairs.”

Louis coos at Harry silently, reaching across the booth to place a sympathetic hand on his forearm. “You are so brave.”

“And you are so understanding.” Harry’s going to have to remember to send Liam a gift basket full of protein shake mix and NutriGrain bars just to thank him for the night of guaranteed sex he’d basically handed over. “Most people just stare at me like I’m some kind of freak in reinforced underwear.”

“Poor baby.” The song in the background changed – Harry noted – but he could only pay attention to the careful circles Louis was rubbing into his arms as he took a drink of his own beer. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through because I never wear underwear.”

Harry choked mid-drink and couldn’t help but mutter a “ _jackpot_ ” under his breath. He looked up only to see Louis fluttering his eyelashes innocently. The _tease_. “You want to get out of here?”

“Oh I don’t, this is all moving too fast. Okay, I guess.” He wasn’t even slightly convincing with his hesitation. “But before we go, I should tell you about _my_ condition.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

“It’s called I’m Not a Gullible Dumbass Disorder.”

And _fuck_. Right as Harry thought he’d be golden; Louis had to go and burst his bubble. He truly thought he’d fooled the boy, but he was clearly wrong. He was caught, but he had to keep trying. “As the former Surgeon General, I’ve got to say, I don’t think that’s a real thing.”

“Okay, just stop Harry. You have no chance with me.” Louis was drinking the beer a bit more frequently now, and Harry was on the same page, needing to wash away the taste of embarrassment. “We’re just here as backups for our friends.”

“Hey, how did you two meet, anyway-”

“No, we’re not doing that first date dance where you pretend everything I say is fascinating, thinking it’ll somehow get you into my pants.”

“What? People don’t actually do that.” Instead of saying anything back, Louis pointes out to the dance floor where Zayn and Liam are dancing. Zayn’s saying something, and Liam’s looking at him like he carved the moon with his bare hands. “To be fair, Liam probably _is_ interested.”

“Just give it a rest, Harry.”

Harry was stumped; truly stumped. He had no choice but to just lay his cards on the table. “Is there any chance you’re willing to forget-”

"You're the type of boy my mother warned me about." Louis took a drink of his warm beer and winced as it went down. "I can't, in good conscience, sleep with you."

"It's a good thing I don't have a conscience." Harry was getting desperate. The more this blue-eyed God rejected him, the more he craved.

“I’m leaving.” And true to his words, Louis stood up and waved at Zayn before walking out of the club. Harry though that would be the last time he saw Louis’ face,  but what he didn’t realize was that it was just the beginning.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry was frustrated. It’d been a long week at work; the flu was going around and he can only handle so many vomiting kids before he contemplated quitting his job. On top of that, he hasn’t gotten off with anybody that wasn’t his own hand in a week, and it’s making _him_ weak.

He found himself at his favorite bar. He would’ve gone to the club down the block from his house, but that _twink_ seemed to have jinxed it for him. He went to pick up a girl after Louis left, and she turned him down. She turned down Harry Styles. As if she had better options.

She didn’t.

So now Harry found himself looking at a blonde. He was laughing with the bartender about _something_ , looking bright and like the center of the universe. He was just what Harry needed. Somebody to fuck that he could have a laugh with.

He approached the man, ready to start up a conversation that would hopefully end with his dick somewhere near the bloke, but he completely blanked. Harry was racking his brain for something to say, but it was all empty space. Eventually, he said the only thing that’s been on his mind all week.

“I have an enormous penis.” Harry didn’t know what to expect. He thought maybe the boy would swoon. Maybe he would look interested. He might’ve just walked away. But he laughed. Honest to god, crying with laughter.

“Mate,” the guy chuckled. “Keep it in your pants, please.” He looked up at the bartender and started laughing again.

Harry turned away, flushing red, but before he could get far, he heard a high voice calling after him. “Get some new lines, Harry, or you’ll never get laid.”

Harry spun back to the bar looking for the familiar voice among the patrons. He was at a loss when the only person he recognized was the Band Director’s Assistant, but it definitely wasn’t _her_ voice.

“What are you doing in my bar, Curly?” This time he heard the exact direction and followed the voice to see the bartender that the blonde was just laughing with.

Louis.

Louis was a bartender.

Louis was a bartender at Harry’s _favorite_ bar.

And Harry didn’t know.

“Did you come here to get a second chance?” Louis asked again after Harry was silent for a little too long.

He shook himself out of his own shock and walked up to the bar, saddling up in the empty stool next to the blonde. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lou. I didn’t know you worked here.”

He’d gone for a charming approach, but the angry glint that fell into Louis’ previously teasing eyes told him he was mistaken. “Right,” the lad snapped, letting a bitter expression take over his face. “It’s not like I told you where I worked and how much I loved my bar.”

“You did not,” Harry protested through a laugh. He’d ran the conversation through his head multiple times, but he could only come up with all the banter about E.P.S. “You made an ass of me and left.”

“The first words you said to me were, ‘Hi, I’m Harry. What do you do?’ I told you vividly and you acted _fascinated._ ”

Harry vaguely remembered Louis chattering on about something while he planned out exactly how to approach the matter of getting the bloke into his bed. “It’s so hard to pay attention to somebody that looks as good as you do.”

“Sure.” Louis reached out for a washcloth to clean up the mug he’d just pulled from the shelf. “It must’ve been real difficult on your enormous penis.”

The blonde guy started cackling at the comment and Louis was smirking as he filled the glass with beer out of the tap.

“How dare you mock my condition.”

“How dare you come into my bar and chat up poor, innocent Niall.”

The bloke – Niall – was giggling into his drink, probably sloshed, and just all around enjoying his night with a smile on his face. Harry figures that if it wasn’t for Louis, he actually could’ve gotten off with his dick in or around Niall here.

It’s all Louis fault.

“Ya know,” Harry stood up from his seat at the bar and walked behind the patrons to catch up with Louis as he walked away to deal with some customers. “It’s entirely your fault that I haven’t fucked anyone this week.”

“My fault?”

“Yes.” Harry was aware of the nosy ears and eyes, listening and watching, but he was only concerned about giving Louis a piece of his mind. “I keep striking out because all I can think about is how bad I messed up with you and your stupid blue eyes.” At that, a gentle smile captured Louis’ face. “So I think that if you’re going to keep ruining my conquests, it’s your responsibility to take care of my needs.”

Just as fast as the smile came, it was gone and a look of fury took over. “Take care of your own needs.” The drink he was handling got slammed onto the counter. “And get the fuck out of my bar.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The flu was still going around, and the front office was filled with sniffling children. Harry was doing everything in his power to make them feel as comfortable as possible while they waited for their parents, but it was hard when there was so many of them.

There were quilts being passed around and Harry swears he’s never seen so many god damned buckets in his life. For how crowded the place was, the front office was extremely organized. It would almost be a nice place to enter if only everybody wasn’t so miserable.

There was one, though. Among all the crying and moaning students, there was one girl – about 15 – that had a smile on her face. Harry honestly thought she was faking until she threw up in one of the designated buckets.

So she wasn’t faking, nor was she miserable. The little spitfire was sitting in the chair next to Harry as they joked around and waited for her parents to come.

Soon an hour had past and the last teenager had left with his mom. It was just Harry and the girl exchanging stories about previous sicknesses they’d had and the current scandals of the school. The girl was eager to discover that her favorite teacher was incredibly easy and sleeping with the principal in ‘secret.’

The two were too busy giggling with each other that they didn’t notice when a man came stumbling through the door. “Sorry I’m late.” The voice – familiar to both of them – pulled them out of their gossip session.

The girl smiled and stood up to collect her stuff out from the seat she previously occupied. Louis, on the other hand, was shocked at what sat in front of him. He had so many things running through his mind, but all he could mutter was, “They let you around minors?”

Harry didn’t know how to react. The last time they met didn’t exactly end on a positive note, but Harry was ready this time around. They were on _his_ turf.

That was a lie.

Despite being as ready as he was, Harry could only look between the girl and Louis before stammering, “Is that your daughter?”

“No. That’s my sister.”

Harry nodded, but a silence blanketed the room. The only noises were from the clicking of a computer across the office and the girl getting her bags together. She finished and walked up to Louis.

“Ready to go, Fiz?” Louis ran his hand over the girl’s forehead, pushing the hair back, and he placed a kiss at the top of her head.

They turned to walk out, but were stopped when Harry finally decided to say something. “Wait, Louis.”

The brunette turned and faced Harry. “Yes?”

“Would you consider getting drinks with me sometime?” He knew he was risking a lot by asking the boy out before he fucked him, but there were some things he was willing to do for the chase. It seemed to be working judging by the way Louis looked down to the floor with a smile on his face. He bit his lip to conceal the grin, but Harry had already seen it, and decided to fuel the fire. “And if it goes well, we can end the night in my bed.”

It was one step too far, He realized. Louis was shaking his head and laughing bitterly. “I don’t think so.”

He didn’t look angry or amused or anything like the other times he turned Harry down; this time, he looked sad. Just purely grief stricken. The expression lasted until the girl – Fiz? – coughed from next to Harry and spoke up. “I’ll take the offer.”

Louis laughed at that before lightly smacking her upside the head. “Go get in the car.” He faces Harry again and smiles at the boy. “I’ll see you around, Styles.”

Harry smiles, watching as Louis walks towards the door. He thinks about his words, and _wait a minute_ – “How do you know my last name?”

“It’s on your nametag, you wanker.”

After that Harry became very aware that Louis knew his last name, but he didn’t know Louis’. He could easily look at Fiz’s school record… but that would be _wrong_.

It’s a good thing Harry doesn’t have a conscience.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Harry couldn’t get Louis Tomlinson out of his head. It’s been a week since he’d last seen the boy, and he was going crazy. It’d been about two weeks since he’d been intimate with somebody, and the only thing stopping him was the look of despair on Louis’ face in the front office.

What had Harry done wrong? He asked him out for drinks, and the boy smiled at him. All was fine until he –

Oh.

Harry knows what he has to do.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next time they met, it was the nicest day they’d had in weeks. The sun was shining brightly, no clouds in sight, and the breeze was just light enough to keep from sweating, but not require a jacket.

It was the perfect day for Harry to take his camera out to the park. He wasn’t a professional photographer by _any_ means, but it was a hobby he really enjoyed.  When you first walked into Harry’s flat, a million framed photos filled his living room, on display for anybody who wanted to indulge in his recreation.

Just as he was adjusting his lens, about to snap the perfect picture of the bridge just past the playground, a voice pulled him out of his concentration.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

There wasn’t any confusion anymore. As soon as he heard the voice he knew who it was, causing a smile to light up his face. “Louis Tomlinson.”

The boy didn’t even look shocked at the use of his surname. But Harry was shocked. Because next to Louis was a Chow Chow, wagging his tail playfully. He looked like nothing more than an excited fluff of a dog.

Harry cooed at the animal before crouching down, hoping it would let it pet him. It did. “What’s his name?”

Louis looked more than fond at the curly boy playing with the dog. “Monster.” Harry giggled loudly at the irony and continued his attack on the little fur ball. Harry always considered himself more a cat person, but Monster was just too sweet.

After a while of playing with the puppy and Louis watching, saying nothing, but looking like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than right there, Harry stood up. He knew what he had to do.

“Louis,” he addressed the boy. He wanted this to go as smoothly as it could considering the three times he’s struck out already. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” The boy looked hesitant, like he was waiting for the crash. But it didn’t come. “I’ll pick you up, take you out, and then return you safely home with nothing more than a kiss goodbye.”

Louis beamed at that, chuckling lightly under his breath. He opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut off his reply.

“On the cheek!” Louis howled at that, looking like he was given the world. “I realize I haven’t been a gentleman the past few weeks, but I want to give us a chance.” He looked surprisingly optimistic for having been rejected three times, but Harry didn’t plan to fail. “Would you let me take you out?”

Louis was quiet. He was doing nothing but smirking at Harry. The moments past slowly until Louis finally – _finally_ – answered. “You got it right this time, Styles. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He put his number in Harry’s phone and walked out of the park with Monster hot on his heels.

Harry was left grinning widely with Louis’ number in his phones and a promise for a date. All it took was two weeks of doing nothing but getting rejected to figure out exactly what he needed to do.

He _really_ needs to thank Liam Payne.  

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on:  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/sapphicbee) | [Tumblr](http://aceniall.tumblr.com)


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